Christmas Surprises
by phfina
Summary: My take on a follow-on to Jocelyn Torrent's story Rose Read; ch 4 "The Mistake": “Mistake”? It wasn’t a ‘mistake,’ okay? It was a misreading, ... or something ... or not! And why does Rosalie always have to harp on when I was wrong before, anyway?
1. The Decision

**Setting:** takes place Christmas 2006, six months after the conclusive climax of Jocelyn Torrent's story Rose Read. Or what I think will be, so this a fan-fiction piece on a fan-fiction piece.

**Pairings:** Canonical. For Rose Read. =P

**Triarings: ** Now, that's not so canonical, and quite the surprise for all parties involved, but ...

**Chapter summary: **Edward simply must call Esme to tell her he's not coming home for Christmas break, but I wonder how, or if, he'll tell her about ...

* * *

Jasper and I returned a week before Christmas break (or whatever they call it these days ... _I_ call it _Christmas break,_ so that's what it is. You don't mess with Alice, even if your from the PC corps. "Happy Holidays"? It's _Christmas!_ You know? _Christmas!_ With presents and snow and Santa Claus and trees and shopping (and _sales!)_ and everything! Don't you _dare_ "Happy Holidays" _me!)._

The cover was that I had to prepare for the Christmas celebration. It's not that Esme wouldn't make a wonderfully festive Christmas air, it's just that she doesn't ...

Well, she doesn't go overboard enough, that's why! Before I started taking charge, things were a little too staid and button up. Esme _so_ wants everything to be perfect for her proper brit Carlisle, so she tends to understate things.

Well, 'understatement' isn't going to be the watch-word for this year, because last year ...

Because last year, 'understatement' wasn't the watch-word, then, either.

Because we didn't have Christmas last year.

See, Edward had left Bella last year, 'for her own good,' as he said, 'and for ours,' he added. But it wasn't for anybody's good.

I couldn't help it: I peeked, and Bella, 'for her own good,' was ... well, she was a zombie, there was less life in her eyes than there was in mine.

And I'm dead. I've been dead since at least 1920.

What? You can't let little things like that slow you down or put a damper on things. Always look for the bright side, I say.

But we couldn't look on the bright side last Christmas, because while Bella was on the West Coast a zombie, not even hearing or seeing her father struggling to be strong for her on the worst holiday to have your own daughter lost to everything, we were scattered all over: Edward down somewhere in Mexico, looking for Victoria, Rosalie and Emmett and Jasper and I attending Dartmouth, and Carlisle at the Hospital.

And Esme at home. Looking at the phone. For hours.

Over Christmas break last year.

Well, this was _not_ going to happen this year, not if I have anything to say about it, and I darn tootin' do, because so help me, we are going to have a wonderful Christmas this year, come Hell or high water. And says who?

Says me! Mary Alice Brandon Whitlock Hale Cullen, that's who!

... Even if Edward's not going to come home for it.

And that's the other reason I've come home a week early.

He's been hemming and hawing over this decision for weeks now, and it's been _driving me crazy!_ this flipping back and forth of his.

Not his decision not to come home, he's pretty much made his mind over that a long time ago.

No, it his decision to call home and tell Esme this. The when and the how to tell her this.

Because you don't bet against me, right? Unless you're a fool ... or just plain crazy like Emmett

But you don't mess with Esme when it comes to family. Particularly and especially if you're Edward. Her favorite son. Who am I kidding? Her favorite _child. _Who left her for half a decade, murdering more than six hundred people in the process.

So I wondered how Edward would call and break the news to her. Or if he would even dare. No matter what he came up with, it didn't end up prettily, that phone call, and so we left for me to go banzai with the preparations, and maybe avert a brewing disaster.

I grabbed me my Jasper and we headed home early for Christmas break.

You can do that when you're doing post-doc research. They don't have finals. They have theses.

And Jasper _loves_ that.

He loves reading his old moldy books, most of them at least a century younger than him. He loves talking with the professors and debating with them, and he loves it when they had an insight that he doesn't. He covets that knowledge like, well, like Aro covets me and Edward and Bella.

My family thought Jasper struggles around people, and he does, but they concluded that he doesn't like being around people, and that's not true.

He loves being around the professors and the other bright post-docs, and he loves putting an old idea or a new idea through its paces. Yes, he struggles. It's hard for him, but he loves this. He _loves_ this.

He _feels._

And, boy! Ladies, I tell you, does he _feel!_

But he's a thinking man. Really! He's caring, and sensitive and calm, and ...

And perfect for me. I don't know what I did to deserve him, so I thank my lucky stars, because he loves being sweet to me and he's a sensitive soul, and I have absolutely no complaints in the bed, and he loves to think and to hash out his thoughts with his colleagues. His equals.

Which, sadly, are most definitely not the Cullens. Nor me.

I mean, really. Which Cullen, or Hale, wants to engage in philosophical debate? Name me one. The closest you can come is Carlisle, the preacher's son, but Jasper is an existentialist, Jasper is always questioning and seeking answers.

Carlisle? Bless his heart, and thank God for him and for his family, but Carlisle is sure of everything. Everything has a reason and that reason has been pre-determined, and everything has its place.

How can Jasper have a conversation with that unshakeable faith? or should I say 'Faith'?

So I dragged my Jasper away from what he loves to go home to a house full of vampires who constantly (but unintentionally) belittle him by turning off their instinctive needs so easily. So easily for them, but so, so difficult for him when he's talking to a just out of tween snack that has two words in her vocabulary: "um" and "huh."

He _likes_ Bella, but it's so much easier for him if he avoids her, especially after he almost killed her. And he doesn't intentionally avoid the Cullens, or Rosalie, but ... well, he's not avoiding them, he's just reading, and they don't have much to talk about with him.

But he came back early with me, not complaining, but — so help me and I can't believe this — eagerly, honestly and truly eagerly.

Because he wants to be with me.

He wants to be with me, girls.

So who's the luckiest girl in the world?

Yes, you guessed right: me, again.

_Ooh!_ I could just rip that collared, pressed shirt off his perfectly-sculpted body and take that blond mane of his and ...

_Ahem! _Where was I?

Oh, yes, the phone call. And Edward telling Esme that he wouldn't be coming home for Christmas again this year and again, because of Bella.

Because Bella actually did go to Dartmouth, and started her freshman year in college there.

With Rosalie.

And they were coming home to spend Christmas day with Charlie, and they all were coming over for the Christmas night festivities _chez Cullen._

And Edward ...

Well, Edward's ... _happy_ ... for Bella, but it's still too soon for him ...

You know? I mean, really? You fiancée leaves you days before the wedding ... _for your 'sister'?_

It was a surprise to us. A surprise to us all. Even me. _Shocking!_ I know. But I mean, I've known Rosalie since 1950, and she and Emmett had their understanding, and she had never shown any interest in anyone else at all. I mean, she enjoyed the looks from both men and women, in that disdainful way she enjoys things, but it was a regal right of hers. So I wasn't keeping tabs on her after she decided not to kill Bella after the van failed to do just that.

I thought, after 50 years of knowing Rosalie as my sister, I thought I knew her.

Sure I saw something when I nudged Bella along, but then, as they say, one thing let to another, and ...

Edward was taking this as best as he could.

Which was really, really polite and civil on the outside.

And really, really ... really-really-_really_ ... badly on the inside.

So, of course, Edward wasn't ready to come home. And he wasn't flying solo, either. I made sure to check on that. He was down in Virginia Tech starting over as a frosh, but this time studying electrical engineering. You know, something entirely different than his usual fare, so he would actually have to study. And be among people, so he couldn't just wither away in a sulk fest.

But he wasn't ready — yet — to come home, and be at least pleasant over Christmas break. And everybody understood that.

Even Esme should understand that.

Yeah. 'Should.'

So Edward was debating what to say and how to say it with his phone call. He kept seeing panic attacks as only Esme can throw them after her son, her favorite son, ran off for years with her worrying every single day, reading him in the headlines in the Chicago and New York and then across the Pond in Great Britain and then on the Continent. Reading the headlines furtively, so that Carlisle wouldn't worry more about her worrying more.

Yeah, Edward's concerns about Esme were justified.

But then some other decisions started to be made, and I wondered if or how Edward would bring up these new developments, because Edward wondered, too. And I worried more how Esme would react ... as Edward wondered this, too.

Following along people's futures as they made them — or, more precisely, _as they worried them to death _— can be exhausting work!

And then, three days into our return home, it happened. The decision.

Jasper and I were cuddling in bed, and I felt him feeling me feel it, so I didn't fight it. I scrunched my back as tightly as I could into his manly, broad, and war-ravaged chest, and he wrapped me in his arms.

"Lis," he whispered in pure concern, "what is it?"

I shook my head. I couldn't even whisper, because the cursed vampire hearing would pick the nuance right out of my well-modulated voice.

But I didn't have to explain anything to Jasper, because in 3-2-1-_now ..._

The phone rang.

I could feel the movement of displaced air, Esme moved so quickly to the phone, she probably blue-shifted.

She unnecessarily cleared her perfect throat and picked up the receiver.

I cringed, the anticipation of seen-future-playing-now tearing my insides apart, and only Jasper's calming waves, tinged by my own worry he absorbed, kept me together.

* * *

[1] In the story Lunière by siDEADde, Jasper affectionately calls Alice 'Lis.'


	2. The Phone Call

**Chapter Summary:** Well, I guess Edward really didn't need to say anything, now did he? As if he could get a word in edgewise anyway.

* * *

"Good evening, Cullen residence, Esme speaking, may I help you?"

Do you ever notice how people answer the phone these days? Is it anything like how Esme answers the phone? I try to tell her she's supposed to say: "Yeah?" so it won't blow our cover. I've even tried roll play.

'Ring-ring,' I'd say, then I'd tell her, 'Now you grunt a disinterested yeah, okay, Esme?'

She just looked at me like I was some garden gnome.

So much for our cover, but Edward was from the same era:

"Esme," he said. "It's Edward."

That would be the pliocene era. I told them _to get with it._ And Esme and Edward were many things, but one thing they were not was _with it._

But I was taken right out of my rumination by Jasper.

"What's wrong with Edward?" Jasper asked.

I was confused. Edward was on the East Coast. There was no way Jasper could feel Edward's ambivalence at his predicament, and there was no way to pick up anything other than Edward's detached (feigned) calmness.

"What do you mean?" I whispered at the same time Esme said in the same voice she used to answer the phone that Edward had just used.

"Hello, Edward, what a pleasant surprise!" ... for somebody who had been waiting for his phone call all semester ... "How are you?"

But she spoke very, very slowly and very, very loudly ... for vampires.

She responded to Edward in Edward's pitch and speed, because Edward was speaking at human speed.

There was only one reason to do this, and the only reason up to now was Bella. Bella hadn't yet arrived in Forks.

Everybody knew something was up.

"Esme," Edward breathed out a quiet sigh, "I'm _fine._ Look, Esme," Edward's voice got quieter but there was a frantic edge to it, "there's something I need tell ..."

"Who's Esme?" a groggy voice called out from the phone earpiece ...

A female voice.

"Who is that?" Jasper asked me in surprise.

"Edward, who is that?" Esme's voice became protective-mother dangerous.

"That is ..." Edward began embarrassedly, but again he was interrupted.

"I thought your LDR heart-breaker's name was Bella; I didn't know I have more competition! You holdin' out on me, Edward?"

'Southern hick' overlaid the slurred, loud voice.

"'LDR'?" Jasper asked me in confusion.

So I spoke loudly for all interested ears, which would be every ear in the house.

"'Long Distance Relationship'" I said, then scrunched deeper into Jasper, covering my head with my arms. I had just painted a big red target on myself with my _ooh-I'm-so-helpful_ assistance that said I had foreseen this ... and not shared with everyone in the class.

"Hmmm," Jasper and Esme hummed disapprovingly and simultaneously.

Edward, not picking up my murmur through the phone line didn't comment, because he was otherwise engaged.

_"Esme,"_ he said in annoyed disapproval, "is my _mother."_

"Huh," the voice answered disbelievingly at the same time that Esme cleared her throat.

"Edward, answer the question," she said in a voice that brooked no further delay.

_Do mothers get that voice when they graduate mother school?_ I wondered as an aside.

"That would be Paige," Edward answered, in the lost voice. That was a voice one didn't hear all that often from Edward.

"Edward," Esme was working on her control, "it's ten o'clock here."

"I'm aware of the time, Esme," Edward said quietly.

"You call your mother Esme?" Paige's voice was nettled. "Is that how it is for you rich folks?"

"Edward, that means it's one a.m. there," Esme was losing the fight on maintaining her control, and Paige's comments weren't helping.

"Yes," Edward responded tightly, but added apologetically in a buzz of words only we could hear, ... and Paige couldn't. _"I thought she would remain asleep. I was mistaken; I apologize for the abrupt introduction."_

And even if she did manage to hear them, she wouldn't have been able to process them into words or to know what they said or meant. The human brain functioned so much more slowly than the vampire mind ... for us, a second really can and does stretch out to eternity.

"Edward," Esme said, very tightly, back.

His comment was meant to diffuse the situation.

But think about it (I have as I considered the alternatives spiraling out before me) ... telling your mother you've got a girl in your dorm room she knows nothing about and that you were not planning on telling her if she stayed asleep?

"What is this ... girl ... _doing_ ..." Esme annunciated each word with slow, powerful attention, "in your room at one o'clock in the morning ... besides sleeping?"

I could just hear Esme's jaw working, as she could not allow her hand holding the receiver to do, that is if she still wished to continue the conversation.

I'm not all that sure she was all that sure she did.

Edward blew out a long sigh. "Esme," again speaking at human speed, "it's not what you think ... Paige had brought me to her sorority, and she had drunk rather more than she should have, and I felt it my duty to ..."

"Edward, han' me the dam' phone!" Paige almost snarled at him with impatience.

Here it came: the train wreck named Paige, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

You think seeing the future is a blessing? A _'neat'_ superpower to have? Well, you see what I see the last couple of years and let's see where it lands you.

No, I'll tell you were it lands you, because I know. It'd land you in the asylum. Exactly where it landed me, with the shaved head and the shock treatments that burned every single living thought from my mind, so I would just shut up and quit babbling those uncomfortable things that consistently came true.

Have I thanked God for Jasper and the Cullens today?

No, I haven't.

Thank you, God, for the Cullens and my Jasper.

My Jasper said, "Uh oh," feeling my dread, and probably sensing it had to do with Paige.

And he did exactly what I love him for, he kissed the crown of my head and crushed me in his powerful embrace, giving me the comfort that only he can.

A rustling of sheets and padded footsteps of bare feet on the tile over concrete floors through that damned modern phone that just shares much too much information confirmed for us all what Edward had admitted: Paige _was_ sleeping in _his_ bed.

I didn't have to wonder what she was (or wasn't) wearing — Edward's decisions at that those junctures as to what to remove were glaringly clear — but I'm sure the rest of my family was.

"So, Esme," Paige's nonchalant voice began.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, call her Mrs. Cullen!" Edward's strangled voice whined, trying to preserve that last shred of dignity.

Hear that sound? The sound of Esme's grinding teeth? That is the sound of the last shred of Edward's dignity being lost.

"Oh, old school, 'kay, ..." we could hear Paige trying to readjust her approach. "So, _Mrs. Cullen, _right?"

"Yes," _Mrs. Cullen_ answered tightly.

"Edward's _mooommmm,_ right?"

Silence.

"Well, I'm sure you're worrying about your baby's virtue, ..." Paige waited at beat then sighed. _'You're whole family's an uptight bunch,'_ she muttered in a voice that she believed she thought to be _soto voce._

Who is that little vampire in Jasper's arms cringing? Why, that would be me, now, wouldn't it?

"Well," she continued relentlessly, "I'm sorry to report that your beloved son, _Edward,_ has been a perfect gentleman. His virtue is still intact from the scary upperclassman ... classwoman."

Grinding teeth.

"Paige, is it?" Esme responded tightly, "Actually, I was concerned for yours."

A chuckle from the other end of the line.

"Well, 'concern' yourself no more, honey," came the uncaring — almost sarcastic —reply, "because that's not something I've had to worry about since I was thirteen."

This was a day for my family to get _with it_ with the TLAs (three letter acronyms). First it was LDR, and now it's TMI.

'Too much information.'

Unfortuately, for Esme, the school teacher who had been teaching girls at the age when Paige lost her virtue, the information flow was just beginning.

"Oh, God!" we heard the sound of a hand smacking a perfected forehead and then brushing through unruly bronze hair. "Paige, may I _please _speak to Esme for a moment?"

"No," came Paige's absolute reply.

"Look, _Mrs. Cullen,_ I don't know what your family's deal is, but a pretty rich boy not going home over Christmas break? Pretty rich uptight _virgin_ boy? I'm not buying that story that he can't afford plane tickets when he wears a different preppy-boy shirt every day with that cologne ..."

I was pleased, when I checked up on him from time to time, that Edward didn't neglect himself and go for the grunge college boy look.

"A college boy wearing cologne? Only one kind of college boy wears cologne ..."

Train-wreck Paige couldn't be stopped.

"That is, no college boys! You ever smell the boys around here?"

I had, not at Virginia Tech specifically, but no matter which college they came from, they all smelled _delicious_ to me.

"A boy only wears that smell when he's on the hunt, and Eddiekins wears it all the time, but he's so wound tight, well, ..."

Paige paused, looking for words. She couldn't find any.

"And he's definitely not gay, because my guy-friends are batting zero on that scorecard, too, and not for lack of tryin' ... and he's coming off a broken heart with no angling for sympathy sex, with me right here saying, 'com'n git your sympathy sex, hot stuff'? What kinda boy you raising?" She demanded.

"A proper boy," Edward interjected, defending Esme from Paige's onslaught.

We heard a hand go over the receiver. "Properly _fucked up!"_ Paige's voice was loud enough that even if we were human, we would have heard her voice through her hand. "This isn't the 1950s anymore, Wally Cleaver."

Actually, the 1950s had a rather more, erhm, _modern_ view than how both Edward and Esme saw things.

"Look, ..." Paige spoke again into the receiver again.

Esme's cold voice stopped her.

"What's this about Edward not coming home over Christmas break?" she demanded imperiously.

I was kind of hoping that Esme would miss that little detail in the repeated shocks Paige delivered so that Edward could have — prior to this mess — delivered the news a bit more gently.

"What, he didn't tell you?" Paige sounded just as surprised. "Well, Jesus fuck-me-runnin' Christ, I thought mama's boy was more out of diapers that this ... what, you got him so scared to death of you he can't even tell his own mom — oh, _I'm sorry,"_ here she didn't even bother to hide her sarcasm, "his own _Esme_ that he doesn't want to go home to a loveless family over Christmas break? At least he'll get Southern Comfort ... both kinds if he wants ... from my family. At least, in our family, we talk. _My family_ supports _me_, no matter what my major may be, or where I go to school, or whatever. _My family_ loves _me."_

I heard Esme take one slow breath. Then another one.

"I ... _we_ _all_ love Edward, and he _knows that."_ Esme spoke very slowly, as if to an addled child. Or as to a drunken college sorority girl angling for sympathy sex from her Eddiekins.

"Oh, yeah!" Paige defied, undaunted. "And he calls you 'Esme,' huh? Not 'mom'?"

"He's called me 'mom' ..." Esme said hesitantly.

"Uh huh," Paige said unconvinced into the receiver, then, away from the phone, but not bothering to soften or muffle her voice, called out, "Edward, how many times have you _ever_ called Esme 'mom'?"

A slight pause of regret, then a whispered "Once" answered her question.

I swallowed. I remembered the date and the event where he did. It was when Bella and I returned to Atlanta after snatching Edward from the maw of destruction that is the Volturi.

"Huh," said Paige forcefully, "you know, stand-offish proper manners and all that shit is really just a disguise for what it is. But I could be wrong, I guess."

Paige wasn't guessing anything right now.

"So, tell me, Edward knows you love him how? When's the last time you told him this? Tell me the last time you told Edward, 'I love you,' huh, _Esme?"_

Silence.

I realized, with shock, that loving, _compassionate_ Esme had never told any of us that she loved us. It was understood that she does. It was implied in her every look and action and word.

But she had never said it.

And, yes, we knew she lost her baby, and we understood we were so vital for her, and we understood that was still hard for her, even now, to get close to anyone, because of that terror of losing that person, but ...

But Esme had never told any of us that she loves us.

Paige continued cruelly, "At the airport, perhaps? When you were sending off your darlin' son all the way across the country for his first _big adventure_ starting off as a frosh in college?"

Esme whispered fervently, "He knows I love him. I love him with all that I am."

"Uh huh." Paige was merciless. "Well, why don't the next time you think that, you tell him, huh? Maybe he wouldn't have been so fucked up if he got a little more love at home."

Esme had finally lost her cool, but her cold tone didn't betray her: "Unlike you?"

Even if her words did. She would have never said that otherwise.

"Yeah!" Paige answered defiantly, _"unlike me!_ I'm not the mommy's boy with the stick stuck so far up his ass he can't even lose his virginity to _oh-she's-so-perfect_ girlfriend number one — his first girlfriend he got just graduating _high school?_ — nor crack a smile that isn't so wry that you could start your own brewery."

I whispered to nobody in particular, "I think she's confusing _wry_ and _rye."_

Then I buried myself back into my Jasper, grimacing. Me. Big mouth. More trouble.

Paige would have continued even if she heard me. "The thing about mommy's boys? Besides being a major pain in the ass? So you're welcome for giving me this pretty-boy fixer-upper over Christmas break? Is that they're not drowning in mommy's love, they're that way because controlling, possessive mommy withholds her love."

Paige had really paid attention in Psych 101. I rolled my eyes at my own sarcastic thoughts.

"So, instead of sulking in his dinky dank dorm room like Mr _oh-I'm-not-emo_ was planning, he's gonna be spending in Radford with my family where at the very least he'll get good, plain, honest all-american organically raised beef and free range chicken eggs, and goddam real love and affection that he's been missing all his ..."

"I'm a vegetarian," Edward muttered his out helplessly.

It was helpless against Mac-truck Paige. "Not anymore you are, buddy, you need some red meat in you to thicken your blood! No wonder you look so pale! You look like what you eat, tofu-head. You know ..." Paige turned her attention back to the receiver.

And then she made a snap decision. I stiffened and held my breath in anticipation.

"I oughta go to your place for Christmas break, it sounds like your whole family needs a good uptight flushing, and Paige here is the girl to give it ..." Paige paused again, and I relaxed, just a little bit, in the pause.

"Nah," she said, "one major project at a time, but I tell you what, Mrs. Cullen, ..."

"Paige," Esme said in a very, very controlled voice, "may I please speak with Edward?"

A pause.

"Hokay," Paige breathed out deferentially, "um ..."

We heard the sound of the phone being gently taken out of the grasp of a living human's hand. We heard footsteps, as we could not hear Edward's silent ones, return to the bed, and a loud thump of a little girl sitting heavily on a college dorm twin bed.

"Fuck," we heard her mutter. "Fucking A-plus, Paige. Great first impression with the mom of the boy you have the hots for."

It sounded like Paige got a very clear message that Esme was sending.

And it was clear to all that Paige had the 'hots' for Edward, but this wasn't a girl who _just_ had the 'hots' for Edward.

"Esme ..." Edward's voice came out slowly across the line.

"Farmer-girl Paige." Esme said just as slowly.

"Yes, her family appears to be bicentennialers, but ..."

"Hey," came an angry voice who recognized Edward's coded term, "there's nothing wrong with being farmers! Hell, America was founded on farming, for crying out loud! Besides, I wanna go into medicine, ya know? Pediatrics, 'cause I love kids, ya know, ... and ya know, I love making them, Edward, _hint, hint, practice now, hint?"_

Another pause. I could just see Edward regarding Paige in silence.

A loud thump announced Paige's head hitting Edward's pillow.

"Oh, shit! I fucking did it again!" Paige lamented. A whisper of movement and then Paige's muffled voice from beneath the pillow. "I blame the Jägermeister!"

"German?" Esme asked, shocked, into the phone.

German. Yes. German Paige. Just like German Bella Swan. Not _Italian_ Bella Swan as a certain big brother of mine jokingly mistook her for.

Or, at least I hope it was a joking mistake.

"They call them 'Dutch' here. Yes," Edward confirmed, "Paige is Dutch, but this ... this thing isn't ..."

"Edward," Esme cut him off, "I think — _or I hope_ — Paige is learning the value of silence, so perhaps you could benefit from the same lesson?"

This was the first time — _ever_ — that I heard even a hint of reprobation in Esme's voice toward anything Edward had said.

"Yes, Esme," Edward answered, chastised.

"And I'm to understand that you will be spending Christmas break at Paige's family, not here?" Esme asked, just as firmly, disapproval coloring her voice.

"Yes, Esme, I'll be at the Morgan's."

"And you will tell me how this all came to be?" Esme demanded.

"Suffice it to say," Edward began quietly, but I could almost hear the smile in his voice.

I noticed that this was first time, in a long time, that Edward was being honestly amused about something.

"... that Paige has a rather convincing approach to persuasion, and also is rather persistent in not accepting answers she doesn't wish to entertain."

"You could have told her you were coming home, Edward," Esme said, reproachfully. "That would have convinced anyone to leave off the persuasion until at least after Christmas break."

"Yes, Esme, I could have told her I was coming home ..." Edward grew silent for a second. "If it were true, but, like I said, Paige was prepared to camp outside my door, shadowing me, because she did for weeks, and was prepared to escort me to the airport, so I didn't really have a ready ..."

"'For weeks'?" Esme asked incredulously.

Edward was quiet.

Me? Not one peep.

"Edward?" Esme's voice sounded betrayed.

Silence on the other end of the line.

Esme sighed. "I'd like to speak to Paige again, please."

"Yes, Esme, of course." But Edward's voice was reluctant.

"Edward?" Esme said quickly.

"You don't have to say it, Esme; I already know." Edward said sadly.

"Do you now?" Esme sounded unconvinced.

Edward whispered, "I don't have to have the ability to read your mind to know in which direction your thoughts tend, Esme." Then in a normal speaking voice, "We've know each other long enough, you and I, to leave the unsaid things unsaid. Here's Paige."

"Edward!" Esme demanded at the same time Paige said away from the phone, "What? No way! Can't you tell her I'm asleep or puking or something?"

Edward ignored Paige's obvious gaff and sighed into the phone, but said obediently, "Yes, Esme?"

"I love you, my s-... my son. I love you."

We heard the brush of the phone against stone: Edward nodding.

The phone was handed off.

"Um, hi?" the girl now sounded entirely cowed.

"Paige Morgan," Esme's voice caressed the syllables thoughtfully.

"Yeah ...?" Paige asked confused.

"It's a good name," Esme concluded decisively. "It sounds filled both with light and with confidence."

"Um, thanks, Mrs. Cullen. Um, and can I say, like, um, I'm really sor-..."

"Paige," Esme interrupted firmly, _"shhh."_

Paige shushed.

"Paige, I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer it truthfully, okay?"

"Um, was that the question?" Paige asked meekly.

"No," Esme said coolly, "this is. Did you mean the things you said?"

"Mrs. Cullen, I'm sorry, and I'm really, um, drunk, and ..." Paige began.

"Paige," Esme silenced the girl. "I didn't ask that question; please answer the question I did ask. Did you mean the things you said?"

"Um," Paige said weakly, "which parts?"

"I think," Esme said coolly, but there was a touch of kindness in her voice, "that I'll take that as a 'yes.' Given this be the case, I'll be picking you and Edward up at the airport in Virginia at Spring Break. I'll fly you out here, and we can talk about ... things."

"Um, ..." Paige was rendered speechless.

"Paige?" Esme pressed.

"Yes, Mrs. Cullen?"

"You've been seeing Edward for weeks?"

"Yeah, sorta ..." then Paige explained: "I mean, hanging out, you know? I took pity on the lost puppy dog look, and, well, I mean, he's kinda, you know, ..."

Paige's explanation rather withered in the thoughtful silence.

"So," Esme said quietly, "I don't need to tell you his situation, and I don't need to say for you to take care of my Edward, because you have been, haven't you?"

"Um," Paige stuttered, "I think it depends on how you mean 'take care of him,' Mrs. Cullen ..."

"I think if we are not going to be shouting at each other and instead are going to be conversing with each other we can try 'Esme' again, Paige, if you are willing?"

"Oh, shit, I think I just peed!" cried a disbelieving Paige.

"I beg your pardon?" Esme asked coolly.

"Oh, I mean, um, yeah, that'd be coo-..." Paige started tentatively, but then started again, trying to be more polite: "I mean, yes, please, if it's all right with you, um, ... Esme."

Paige tasted Esme's name carefully as she said it.

"Okay, then," Esme agreed easily. It sounded like she was growing more comfortable with with the girl. "Now, get some sleep, Paige. You, as an aspiring doctor, know the importance of sleep for the body and mind, right?"

"Yes, Mrs Cul-... Esme ..." Here Paige paused for a second. "You could tell your son that, too, ... he really looks like he could use a good night's sleep, you know."

"You are the mothering type, aren't you, Paige." Esme sounded surprised and pleased.

"Yeah, well, sorta, I guess," Paige answered humbly. "Um, did you want to say goodnight to Edward?"

"Yes, thank you, Paige, and good night." Esme said kindly.

Edward returned to the phone: "Esme."

"What are you going to do with the meal situation?" Esme's voice was now businesslike.

"What I can do, Esme," Edward replied fatalistically, "Eat the ones I must and avoid the ones I can."

"Which would be none of them, buster!" A voice floated out of the phone on our side. "'Cause I'll be watching you like a hawk!"

Edward sighed.

"Edward," Esme said carefully, "what is this all about?"

"Paige is a nice ... and persistent girl, Esme." I could almost hear Edward's shrug.

"You got that right, buddy!" the voice confirmed strongly, but then added as an afterthought: "well, persistent, anyway."

Esme ignored Paige's comment. "A nice and persistent _human_ girl, ... that you don't love?"

Edward was quiet for a second, then said: "You know whom I love, but ... well."

"Jeez, Edward! I'm not deaf! She's moved on, hasn't she? So you move on, already, too! Or," then Paige's voice became a whisper, "better yet, don't move on and come to bed."

We heard patting sounds, and then her voice became pleading and playful, "I kept a spot warm for you ... I'll help you forget her for a while, at least, huh?"

Paige, of course, didn't realize that we heard her every word.

"... but she loves you." Esme summarized the obvious, that is, 'obvious' from Esme's view of the world.

Edward was silent.

"And you, Edward," Esme continued relentlessly, "enjoy her company, for whatever reason, enough to rescue her from a drunken revelry and bring her to your room ... after weeks of not throwing her out by her ear."

There was a thought-filled pause on the other end.

"Do you hear her thoughts, Edward?" Esme demanded.

"Esme, please ..." Edward pleaded, "Please don't compare one person to another. B-..." Edward didn't bring himself to say the name that he probably thought all the time. He continued down a different path: "Paige is herself. That I can hear her thoughts ... or not ... shouldn't matter nor be important to who she is."

Edward obviously added in the 'or not' in an attempt to cover that he did, indeed, hear the cacophony, the confused muddle of sights and sounds and tastes and feels and the thoughts they generated in the small human frame in his very room.

But I _saw_ the signature reactions cross Edward's face, even thought they were too subtle for Paige to discern, when Paige was quiet ... and when Paige was ... not so quiet.

"'Paige is herself.' Hm." Esme paused thoughtfully, then seemed to change topics without preable: "Emmett is coming down from Denali to visit for Christmas break," Esme concluded. "Would you like him to give you a call while he's here?"

"Yes, Esme," Edward replied, "that would be nice."

"Good," Esme said forcefully, "then I'll see you and Paige at Spring Break."

"Will ... will ..."

Edward's voice was crestfallen. He couldn't complete the question, but we all knew what he was asking.

"Edward," Esme said firmly, "it doesn't matter if she's here, or who is here for that matter. You are going to see her again sooner or later, and six months is already too long for _me_ not to see you. I hope she _is_ here for Spring Break. _Bella,"_ Esme emphasized her name, "is _family, _and I love her, too, Edward. I love her as I love you."

"I... Esme, I don't kn-..."

_"Shhh!" _Esme hissed. "I'll see you at Spring Break, and Paige, too."

Edward sighed, defeated. "Yes, Esme, Spring Break."

"And I assume from the lack of side comments that Paige is now asleep in your bed?" Esme asked.

'Mom' Esme just had to add the obvious 'in your bed' to the question, didn't she?

"Yes," Edward answered tensely.

"Then I'll bid you good night, Edward," Esme said formally.

"Good night, Esme ..." Edward was quiet for a second. "You do know that ..."

"Yes, Edward," Esme sighed. "It's hard to say, isn't it? I love you, too. Good night."

Esme quietly put the phone receiver down.

See that? Did you see that?

That is why Esme is our mother, see? Because she always manages to catch us red-handed, but then has that word of advice or that ineffable _something_ that solves or resolves the situation for her children in a way that only she could have seen or thought of.

Of course Edward and Emmett are in the same situation, but Emmett has been at Denali for six months with Tanya. He doesn't love Tanya; he loves Rosalie, and well, last I checked, Tanya doesn't love him, either, but they like each other and enjoy each other's company and give each other comfort ... sexually and otherwise.

Edward would never think to ask Emmett because Edward's problems are always Edward's problems, and nobody else's, to be burdened with.

And what about me, seeing this situation evolve from Paige's awkward yet determined greeting to mopey and distant Edward to Edward gallantly rescuing the drunk Paige by putting her into his bed? Did I think of the obvious help one brother could give to another?

Well, 'obvious' after Esme's recommendation made it so?

Esme _is_ a mother to us, and not just because she loves us to death, but it's also because her every moment is thinking of us as her children, and thinking what would be best for us, and how she could make the best happen for her children, no matter into what foolish and childish situation we put ourselves.

And did you see how she handled Paige? Esme's definitely not a doormat: she drew a very clear line for the girl, but then, she didn't crush her, and she didn't get all 'I'm the mother, and you're my son's girlfriend who so obviously comes up short.' No, she took what Paige said, no matter that it was delivered in a way she didn't expect and wasn't accustomed to, and she said, 'let's talk.'

How many mothers would give their son's oh-yeah-I-have-a-new-girlfriend-in-my-dormroom-at-one-a.m. the second chance that Esme did?

A knock at our door interrupted my glowing reflection of Esme.

"Jasper, Alice, are you decent?" The not glowing-reflection-of Esme, but the real, honest-to-goodness Esme waited for our reply.

See, I had been so dreading how the phone call from Edward, and the developments I had seen there, would affect Esme that I didn't look a bit further to see how the affected Esme would affect me.

That future was right now, and I didn't have to be a seer to see the upcoming mother-daughter talk wasn't going to be pleasant.

I sighed, accepting the coming well-deserved drubbings for not telling the mom everything that her darling boy was experiencing so she could go into the phone conversation forewarned.

Jasper held me tightly and almost growled toward the door. I felt animosity and protectiveness thicken the air around us. But I didn't need to be keyed up for the coming conversation.

I patted Jasper's arm affectionately.

"It's okay, Jas," I told my honey-haired honey ruefully, "I was the one who wanted to be in the Cullen family that I'd do anything for it, so now, here's one of the anythings: a nice chat with Esme."

"As long as she's _nice,"_ he growled into my ear.

Jasper always felt a little bit the outsider, and he didn't mind putting himself between me and anybody or anything else ... even if it were 'mom.'

But Esme's not my 'mom' ... she _is_ my mom, no quotes. No, she's more than that. My own real mother abandoned and forgot me, ... probably gratefully, too.

Esme loves me. Forever.

Even when she's angrily waiting outside my door to tear me a new one for holding back on her.

I sighed and blew a raspberry kiss on Jasper's big, strong arm.

'Unwilling' is much too weak a word to describe how Jasper let me go. But he did let me go.

I got up and walked to the door, opening it.

Esme regarded me with narrowed eyes.

"Alice, could we talk in my room for a moment, please?" Esme asked in a very tightly-controlled voice.

I smiled weakly at her, nodded once, and stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind me.

Not looking back.

I hated seeing my Jasper weak, be it with fury or blood lust, or with ... anything. My Jasper was a big, strong, powerful warrior of a man who loved me, and when he was weak, I wanted to be there to comfort him, not to see him wallow in his weakness.

... as he had done before.

And, besides, the chat with Esme couldn't be all that bad ... could it?

I didn't check. I didn't want to know the answer right now.

The pit of my stomach probably felt very much like Paige's did after her cumulative missteps dawned on her alcohol-addled brain.

I didn't have Paige's excuse, however.

Esme led me to her room ... to Carlisle's room ... to my parent's room, closed the door behind us, and went to the center of her domain, turning to face me, and crossed her arms.

"'Paige Morgan'?" Her voice, although quiet and controlled, was both furious and incredulous, and her eyes were dangerous.

I noted to myself that this was the first time I saw how scary Esme could be.

When it comes to family, you don't cross Esme.

I swallowed and nodded. The reminder that I was family too didn't feel all that comforting under her penetrating gaze.

Esme was indeed my mother: her eyes saw everything, and I, her child, had absolutely no maneuvering room now.

I opened my mouth to explain or to apologize.

Or to do both.

* * *

[1] New Moon, at the end of ch 21 "Flight" Edward calls Esme 'Mom' after Esme gets right in his face and tells him never to do that to her again. To do what? Well, be Edward and go 'solve' everybody's problems his own way. Oh, well.

[2] Wally Cleaver is an upstanding young man in the 1950s TV series _Leave it to Beaver._ I only know the TV series by name and reputation.

[3] "Bicentennialers" are family farms that have existed since the American revolution. It's rather a point of pride along the Appalachia, especially with family farms disappearing. _Appalachian Farming Life: Memories and Perspectives on Farm Families in Virginia's New River Valley_, Mary LaLone, under the auspices of Radford University, Brightside Press, Fairlawn, VA.

[4] "Paige Morgan" also happens to be the name of a wry college girl interested in going into pre-med, who falls for (literally) a handsome prince (of Denmark) named Edvard, who happens to like expensive cars. Of course, "The Prince and Me" is pure-D fiction, whereas this story is the real deal! ... um, yeah ...


	3. The Singer

**Chapter summary:** What? Oh, God! Oh, God, no! Don't do it, Rosalie! Just hang on! Please don't kill Bella!

* * *

"Esme, I'm sorry; I'm really, really, sorry! I didn't see it go down this way, and ..." I began.

Esme held up an imperious hand.

"You didn't see _what_ go down _what_ way?" Esme demanded angrily.

My apology wasn't starting off that well.

Go for chipper or cute?

I looked into Esme's furiously black eyes.

No, going for chipper wouldn't be such a good idea right now.

"Um, the phone call? I thought, that, well, Paige _was _sleeping deeply and ..."

"Yes, Paige," Esme interrupted. "_Paige._ And just how long have you seen her, and have been keeping tabs on this, Alice?"

"Um."

No, my name _isn't _Bella Swan _nor_ is it Paige Morgan, okay? But _you_ try talking to Esme when she's like this.

"A few weeks, perhaps?" Esme asked. "A few weeks where just one little phone call from Edward or just one little phone call from _you_, Alice, that _'oh, Edward's doing better'_ just so I can ..."

She pressed her hands to her chest. It wasn't a fake or a dramatic gesture. It was an Esme gesture, because _she ached._

I looked away. I wasn't my Jasper, but I felt her suffering.

_"Why,_ Alice? Why did you keep this from me?" Esme pleaded.

"Edward ..." I blew out a breath. "Esme, Paige is _human._ And Edward didn't want ... well, you saw how Edward was when he left for Viriginia Tech. He didn't want anything, and when Paige blocked his way to class, he just picked her up by the shoulders and put her to one side and kept on walking, but you know Paige well enough to know that really impressed the Hell out of her, but ..."

"But ...?" Esme prompted.

"But, Edward didn't want to repeat ... you know?"

I was almost as shy as saying Bella's name when it was brought up in reference to Edward. It had just gone so horribly, fantastically wrong for him, and now she was with Rosalie, who was so deliriously happy with her new ... new _something _— girlfriend? lover? soulmate? — I mean how were the rest of us supposed to feel about all this? Happy for Bella and Rosalie? Sad for Edward?

It was a big happy-sad confused mess.

'Yeah, I lost my bride-to-be to my sister ...' or 'I found my true love walking down the aisle to marry my brother ... when I was being fitted for my bride's maid dress ...'?

Either and any way you put it, it seemed something that even the most imaginative fiction writer couldn't ever come up with, for goodness sake!

And Edward, putting everything that was him trying to keep Bella human — _because he loves her _— only to have all that taken away by her, _twice,_ because 1) she wants to be a vampire, and the Volturi said 'damn straight' and 2) because she takes herself away from him anyway to go with the only (God forbid) _vampire_ (not human, nor, God forbid, again, werewolf) that could top him in the looks department?

And then along comes little Paige Morgan, who looks and acts nothing like Bella, but there it is, Paige is human, and so Edward, right in the midst of his heartbreak has to consider seeing the sequel of this soap opera when he didn't like how prequel turned out at all?

What _would_ Edward say to Paige? I'll tell you what he said, because he says it to every human girl, and, for that matter, any vampire girl (ask the Denali sisters) that throws herself at him.

No, 'fuck off,' is not the exact phrase he uses, but the message, no matter how diplomatically delivered, amounts to the same thing.

But for every other girl, Edward's first, or second, or, in Paige's case, third salvo are, for Paige, just an interesting conversation starter, even if sullen Edward is mum after his dismissive grunt.

But Edward was bound and determined to end this Paige thing before it started.

Just as Paige was bound and determined to get the ball rolling.

It was very, very entertaining to watch, especially during the yawn-fests of Jasper talking to a bunch of tweed- and argyle-wearing old fogies arguing 'quiddity' verses 'haecceity.'

Do you know the difference between the two? I do (one of my Ph.D's. is philosophy; I can't let Jasper bully me with talk of noesis and noema).

But what does matter when there's Paige to watch?

"Alice," Esme said, "that's where I could've helped. If I knew about Paige, I could've ..."

Paige to watch ... not to involve oneself with.

"Esme," I sighed.

"What?" Esme asked, offended and angry.

"You could've done exactly what Edward didn't want you to do," I said sadly.

"How can you say that, Alice?" Now Esme was even more miffed.

"Esme, will you listen to me, please?" I asked quietly.

"That's what I'm doing right now, Alice," Esme glared at me with stiff posture, black eyes and crossed arms.

I crossed my own arms and waited.

Esme regarded me angrily for a second, but then blew out a sigh and uncrossed her arms.

"Maybe we can sit down?" she waved her hand to her enormous bed.

I smiled in acknowledgement. She sat down, and I sat right next to her. She wrapped her arm around my back, resting her arm on my shoulder, and I leaned into her, breathing in her: _Esme, Mom._ She kissed my head, and pulled me into a side-hug. I snaked my own hand up to her own shoulder and pulled her tighter into our side-hug.

"Okay," Esme said. "Let's start over. I'm really disappointed and angry that I didn't know about this before, especially as I was so worried about Edward, but I'm listening now. Why couldn't you tell me before, please?"

"Because it was a private matter for Edward to handle on his own." I said, firing round one.

"Alice, Edward is _my son,"_ Esme said firmly but quietly and calmly. "His well-being is my concern, and when he can't handle that, it _isn't _a private matter or his concern, it's mine."

"... and Edward was afraid as soon as you found out, you would drag Paige right into our family ... just like you did with Bella, ... just like you did with this phone call, when Edward feels then only good for a human is to be pushed away from us ... from our kind, not to be brought in and embraced where they'd be exposed to mortal dangers they never possibly could otherwise."

I fired round two. That's me, Alice: I shoot from both barrels.

I turned my face into Esme bringing my left hand around Esme's front to meet my right on her shoulder and hugged her as tightly as I could.

"Oh!" Esme said. I felt her stiffen as my words hit her.

It was quiet for a moment.

"You know," Esme said quietly, "Bella would have been exposed to none of the dangers she was if we listened to her wishes to be turned, or she would have been able to handle them without exposing her to so much risk ..."

"Esme, you're preaching to the choir, and you know that," I said into her shoulder, "but you know Edward's views on that ... as well as Rosalie's ... What are you going to do at the airport in Virginia? 'Hi, Paige, I'm Esme; this may sound odd, but may I skip the preliminaries and bite you now for your own good and self-protection'? That wouldn't stroke Edward's paranoid fantasies that you're grabbing every mortal Edward looks at so you can to grow the Cullen family to feed some matronly imperative. I mean, seriously, first Rosalie, then Bella, and now Paige."

"We didn't turn Rosalie to be Edward's mate, we turned her because she was on the point of death." Esme said stiffly, pulling away

I pulled her back. "And the fact that you had designs on her even when she was mortal escaped Edward's notice?"

"... and Bella isn't even turned!" Esme whined.

"... yet." I finished her statement.

"... nor is she for Edward!" Esme pushed.

"... but she was originally, wasn't she?" I asked back.

Esme was silent.

"And now Paige," I said.

Esme's silence was sullen.

"You're buying the plane tickets tonight, aren't you, Esme? You're already fitting her into the family in your mind, right? I don't need Edward's gift, Esme, I see plans. I see hopes being entertained, because those are decisions, even if they are little ones." I said the last bit sadly, because Esme was just so hopeful for Edward here, as she is for him in every glimmer of hope she imagines.

"So, ..." I finished, "that's why I didn't tell you, huh? Because Edward so wanted to spare Paige all of Bella's suffering, because she has suffered, and, well, he sees it's because we're what we are, and if I told you, this is what happens: Paige gets invited right into the vampires' spooky castle, with the vampire mommy so wanting happiness for her vampire son from the next human sacrifice."

I smiled weakly at my non-joke.

"Oh," Esme said quietly, and her hand left my shoulder.

"Esme, hold me, please," I begged.

Esme was quiet for a moment.

Then her hand returned to my shoulder.

She kissed my head again.

You know how vampires don't cry?

Neither Esme nor I cried.

Yay.

Esme held me for a moment ... then: "May I say something?"

"Yes," I said quietly.

There's a price to be paid for using my ability. If I look forward seconds to see what Esme would say, I'm moving along in the future, and I lose the present.

So what?

So I start to lose the present.

Do you know what happens to people who lose grip on reality? They call those people various things, but basically, and bluntly, those people are called insane.

It's not a technical term, but that's what it is.

When I 'peek' I take the (measured) payment of losing the present to the (very) possible future. I have a fear, though, that one day I'll lose my way in the future, and not return to the present.

This is such a thing as insane vampires. Did you know that? In their first two years, most vampires lose it, that's why it's so important that newborns have a guide to help them through the truly surreal experience of being human and then being ... _not._

I had no such guide, but I had no experience of being a human: as far as I've experienced, I've always been a vampire, taunting from the destroyed James notwithstanding.

And there are other times during a vampire's existence when it's just so easy to ... _snap._

Do you know what happens to vampires who _snap?_

That's what we have the Volturi for.

So, I could _peek_ on Esme ... quiet easily. But I have a fear: how easy is it to come back to the present.

Sometimes, it's not so easy.

Sometimes, when I'm in the future, it's not so pretty what happens to me in the future ... nor in the present as I'm gripped by the future.

Sometimes, it's nice to let future come into the present one second after the other, _normally._

And sometimes, I don't have a choice. Sometimes the future grips me.

So sometimes it's nice when I do have the choice to choose not to know _a priori._

I let the future come to me one second at a time.

This time.

"Are you happy in the Cullen family?" Esme asked me.

"Oh, Esme," I exclaimed, "you know that from my first year of existence this is all I've always wanted."

"'All'?" Esme pressed.

"Yes, of course, Esme. Why do you ask?" I was confused now. The Cullens and my Jasper are all that I could ever want.

"So you're completely satisfied with your sisterly interaction with Rosalie?" Esme asked.

"Well," I said, feeling my eyebrows pull together, "Rosalie is Rosalie, and we enjoy some things together, sure, when, you know, she isn't being ... well, _Rosalie._ But, I mean, Bella's going to be turned sometime, right? Yes, I like Rosalie; I have liked Rosalie, but I'm happy Bella's joining us, too, and really happy that Rosalie's so much happier now, too, so ..."

"And you 'saw' Bella as your best friend ..." Esme said thoughtfully. "What do they call it these days?"

"BFF," I said, then explained: "'Best Friend Forever.'"

"'Forever,'" Esme said the word slowly.

"Yes, but Bella wants that, Esme, so I don't see ..."

"And you didn't tell us about this until ..." Esme began.

"Esme, you know the futures are uncertain, and Edward ..."

"What does Paige look like?" Esme interrupted me.

"What?" I asked confused.

"I know what she _sounds_ like, Alice," Esme said. "What does she look like?"

"Esme ... wouldn't to better for you to see her for yourself?" I said gently. "Sometimes experiencing surprise is better than demystifying the future."

Esme wasn't mollified. "Humor me this time, Alice. Is she shorter or taller than Bella?"

"Esme," I said, seeing where she was going with this, "Paige doesn't look anything like Bella, okay? Edward didn't go out and get a girl that looks just like Bella to console himself. No, _she_ went to _him,_ anyway."

"Yes, and you saw it, and you could have called him so he could avoid the situation, but you didn't."

"What?"

I was stunned.

"So," Esme continued. "'Paige Morgan.' Germanic, right? So, brown or blond hair?"

"No," I said, now utterly confused at Esme's implication. "Her hair's almost, well, it's black."

"... and she's shorter than Bella, right?" Esme demanded.

"Well, ... yes?" I felt myself being cornered, but I didn't know why, and I felt myself being tempted to peek.

And that's the worst time to peek: when I'm tempted to.

"About your height, right, Alice? Or maybe your sister's when you were human?"

I suddenly saw what she was implying.

"Esme," I said, pulling away, but this time Esme pulled _me_ back into her. "She doesn't ... I mean, _her_ hair is long and straight, and she has blue eyes and ... well, she has some acne, and ..."

"What color were your eyes when you were human?" Esme's voice floated from the void of nowhere of the present.

"Esme, I don't kn-..." I began, but then the whole room tilted onto its side ... it's left side, in fact, ... and then went away.

_Oh, no!_

A vision. I was in the grips of a vision. A powerful one.

I felt my body go away. I felt Esme's arm on me, but I didn't. I heard Esme call, "Alice?" but I didn't.

Because I was _Somewhere._

I wasn't here anymore. I wasn't in now anymore. I was _Somewhere else._ I was _Somewhen else._

I was in a room, but I didn't see any details, just a small bed, sort of the size of Edward's dorm room, but that didn't feel right, as the bed seemed to be against a different corner than the one I saw in my visions of Edward and Paige.

_Blue._ I thought.

I was on the bed looking up at a vampire in pure ... I couldn't identify it besides the overriding fear.

I was a vampire floating above me, a human, looking down at me.

But then the human me went away and became pulsating red, a vessel of living blood, and then the red heated to pure white.

And I could see me, the human, anymore, I just saw pure need. I, me, the vampire. I _wanted._ And that pure want was the human beneath me.

And me, the human, looking at up into the vampire saw pure black eyes. Pure hunger.

I, me, the vampire, leaned down to I, me, the human's neck, and I opened my mouth ...

...

"Alice ... Alice ... Alice ... I'm here." A voice.

"Alice, I'm here, love, I'm here." Jasper's voice.

Arms around me. My lips attached to a neck. Something in my mouth.

"Alice, it's okay, dear, it's okay; I've got you." Esme's voice.

I took a breath through my nose. I took another breath.

Esme held me.

The front door opened.

Carlisle.

"Esme, I'm home. Sorry I'm late, the Christmas holiday really fills the hos-..."

Carlisle stopped, then he put all his senses out, questing.

The very next instant he was up the flight of stairs, through the door and standing by Esme.

He looked around the room.

"What happened?" He asked quietly, his voice filled with concern.

I breathed in. I breathed out. I realized that the something in my mouth was a piece of Esme. I pushed _her_ in my mouth with my tongue back onto _her_ collarbone and removed my teeth and lips from Esme's neck and shoulder.

I looked around. The bed, Esme's clothes, the surrounding area, including the carpet on the floor?

In shambles. Shredded.

I looked at Esme's shoulder.

A very tiny mouth had taken a bite out of her shoulder; the chip from her shoulder was working it's way back into place, but the bite mark would always be there now.

My bite mark.

Jasper answered Carlisle, pointing to me: "A vision. A bad one. I think she saw her singer. I felt it."

"No," I gasped.

All eyes, already looking at me, intensified their stare.

"Not my singer. Rosalie's."

I now recognized the vampire from the vision from my clouded and dull human eyes.

I looked at the three vampires looking at me and swallowed the venom the vision had pooled in my mouth.

It seared every inch of my indestructible throat as it went down, but it didn't hurt as much as the next words I said.

"It's Bella. Bella just ... Bella just becomes Rosalie's singer."

I swallowed again and told the three stunned vampires what I saw.

"And Rosalie's going to drink Bella dry, and she can't stop herself."


	4. The Mistake

**Chapter summary:** "Mistake"_?_ It _wasn't_ a 'mistake,' okay? It was a misreading, ... or something ... _or not!_ And why does Rosalie always have to harp on when I was wrong before, anyway?

* * *

Three vampires stared at me in shock.

"Well," I exclaimed shrilly, "don't just stand there! Call Rosalie and stop her!"

Carlisle, ever cool, "Now, Alice, now is not the time to panic, we have to ..."

I couldn't stand it: "Now is the _perfect _time to panic," I said, panicking. "Don't you get it? When I feel something happening that strongly, it's either happening in the very near future or it's happening to me ... or it's happening to me or someone dear really soon now!"

"I'll call," Esme volunteered.

She raced downstairs, all of us fast on her heels. She dialed Rosalie cell, and waited as the connection was made, looking toward me.

"What do I sa-..." Esme began, but then was interrupted when Rosalie picked up.

"_What?"_ Rosalie snarled through the line.

There's formality when talking on the phone, and then there's Rosalie.

"H-hello, Rosalie," Esme said, taken aback, "this is Esme, I was just calling t-..."

"Who else would be calling at two in the morning?" Rosalie snarl didn't soften in tone, although her snarl was soft in volume. "Listen, Esme, email's been around long enough, and if you'd check it, you'd see we're _still_ arriving tomorrow evening, okay? The itinerary hasn't changed since we booked the flight."

Wasn't it wonderful how Bella had mellowed Rosalie's disposition?

But we got a vital piece of information, even if it was alluded to implicitly, and that was Bella was okay now.

So we just had to make sure she stayed that way until the future definitely changed away from the horrible vision.

And an irate Rosalie wasn't steering the future away from that course.

"So you're both okay, then?" Esme confirmed.

An exasperated sigh. "Of course we're okay! Sleeping Beauty here is ..." then Rosalie paused, then said angrily (well, _more_ angrily), _"God damn it!"_

She said that because a quiet, tired voice joined the conversation. "Rose, is everything okay? Who are you talking to?"

_Rose_. Bella called Rosalie 'Rose.'

After two years of knowing _of _Rosalie, Bella hadn't used that familiarity ... rarely anybody did, and if they did, they did so rarely, daringly, because it was always a measured risk, being familiar, calling Rosalie 'Rose.' She tended to rip your head off if she felt she was being slighted or taken for granted or patronized.

Well, not _literally_ rip off your head. That we knew about, anyway.

Bella said Rosalie's familiar name easily, naturally.

She said it as a friend calls a friend, or a lover her beloved.

Bella now knew more than _of_ Rosalie, she _knew_ Rosalie ... _knew_ as in the Biblical sense.

It was ... almost shocking, this intimacy that we were hidden witnesses to.

But not as shocking as what followed.

"Sweetheart," Rosalie said gently, "everything's all right, I'm just confirming the flight information with Esme."

Rosalie's voice, just recently harsh and angry to her kin, softened to tenderness when she addressed Bella.

Rosalie was being ... _tender._

And, there were no layers in this tenderness. Before there was always a haughtiness, a distance, an anger, to everyone, even to Bella before ... _especially_ to Bella before when she was that troublesome little human.

Bella is still a troublesome little human, by any vampire's measure (even though our family loves her dearly).

Except, apparently, Rosalie's.

"What time is it?" Bella's voice was still stupid with sleep.

"It's still early, honey; go back to sleep," Rosalie said lightly.

Bella couldn't possibly hear the strain in Rosalie's voice as Rosalie tried to shield Bella from a phone call from her family at two a.m.

But Bella is no dummy, either.

"How early _is_ it?" Her voice sharpened to a heightened awareness.

A slight pause, then Rosalie answered quietly, "It's two thirteen a.m."

We heard a shifting of sheets, and Rosalie buzzed an angry, "When we get home, I am so going to ..." into the phone.

Bella couldn't understand what Rosalie was saying, but she understood that something was being said.

"Rosalie, hand me the phone, okay?" It wasn't what one could call a commanding voice, but Bella was certain about what she wanted, and she definitely didn't want to be shoved to the side any more by all the supernatural creatures talking about what was best for her.

She had more than enough of that in her life.

We could hear Rosalie's teeth grind, but the very next second, we did hear Bella's signature timidity: "Hello?"

"Bella," Esme smiled into the phone, "I'm so glad to hear you're well."

"Esme," Bella's voice was relieved to be talking to a sympathetic vampire ...

... although that label could be applied to all of our family ... well, most of our family.

And Jasper could be sympathetic if Bella wasn't bleeding at the time.

Bella continued: "Is everything okay?"

"Well, ..." Esme began.

Esme was our _worst _liar, and, consequently the worst person to talk with Bella ... but the best one to talk with Rosalie, because her temper was less likely to snap when talking with Rosalie. I tended to be less patient than Esme with Rosalie.

But now that Bella was on the phone, we couldn't hand off the phone to somebody else without arousing suspicion.

Again, another human unexpectedly waking threw everything off.

What is it with humans refusing to continue to sleep when we need them to do just that?

So very inconvenient!

But if humanity were to be wiped out, as was floated about in serious discussion in certain quarters, then most vampires would need to find a new food source (which for them was simply unthinkable) and we wouldn't have these wonderful moments with Bella.

She was always doing something unexpected.

Cliff diving, anyone? Or ballet lessons with James? Or calling off a wedding just as church bells are ringing?

That Bella, always something.

And now it was a phone call. Harmless, right? Just like when Bella said she had to go to the bathroom at Phoenix Airport ... and ran right into James' arms.

"It's Edward, isn't it? Something happened to him? Did he go to Volterra again?" Bella's voice rose in pitch along with her concern.

"I hope so," Rosalie's angry buzz carried its way over the phone line. "That way he'd do something right for a change and finally finish what he started!" Then she added spitefully, "Serves him right!"

"Rosalie!" both Bella and Esme exclaimed at the same time.

Of course, Bella couldn't know what Rosalie said, but it wasn't hard to guess her general feelings about her brother.

There wasn't much love between them before: both of them sullen and proud, and now that they had fought so genteelly on the surface but so dirty in the subtext over Bella, one's anger had sharpened into jealousy and the other's anger had sharpened into indignation.

Edward and Rosalie, brother and sister, now hated each other — passionately — and their tight-lipped civil smiles to each other hid this fact from nobody.

"Rosalie Hale," Esme spoke through the phone in even tones, she didn't need to shout, but her tones, albeit even, where firm, "Edward is your brother, and _my son,_ just as you are _my daughter,_ and it would a sad loss for us all, _you as well, _if something were to happen to him."

"Rose," Bella's quiet voice was directed away from the phone, "I don't know what you said, but I think you should apologize."

There was a silence, thick with anticipation on our side. Rosalie? Apologize? About Edward?

After a moment, a cross "I'm sorry!" came over the line.

Esme frowned, but Carlisle actually smiled faintly.

Well, it was progress ... for Rosalie.

"Rose," Bella said humbly, "things are over between Edward and me, but I still care for him and what happ-..."

"I apologized already!" Rosalie said angrily.

Well, a little bit of progress for Rosalie.

Bella sighed, but then spoke into the phone, "What do I need to do? Is he in Volterra now? Do I need to fly out there? But what will they say about me when I'm still a ..."

"No, Bella, it's not that," Esme interrupted quickly, "Edward's fine. You don't have to concern yourself about that."

"How do you know that?" Bella asked disbelievingly. "I mean, hasn't he been avoiding talking to us all?" But then she amended quickly, probably reading annoyance from Rosalie, "I mean, you all? How do you know he's okay?"

"He actually called within the last hour, Bella, I talked with him for a bit," Esme answered factually.

I think only Esme could turn what the conversation she had with Edward and the surprise in his room named Paige from what it was to 'I talked with him for a bit.'

"Oh," Bella said in surprise. It was quiet for a second, then she asked hesitantly, "Is he flying home for Christmas break, too?" She paused a fraction of a second, then added, "I mean, it's okay, and everything, he needs family now, more than ever, and ..."

"Actually," Esme said, "he called to tell me that he'd be spending Christmas break in Virginia, but ..."

"See, Esme, no, that's not okay," Bella said forcefully, "because when he's alone, he starts thinking, and what he comes up when he's left to himself is never good. This is bad, Esme, we have to ..."

"Bella! Bella!" Esme said. "A local family is taking Edward in. He'll be looked after. Don't worry about Edward, okay?"

I shook my head as I listened.

Esme.

'He'll be looked after'? There was no way for Bella to infer anything like ... well, the _tour de force_ that Paige is that attached herself to Edward.

"Oh," said Bella in surprise. "Okay ... well, that's good. But if you're not calling about Edward, then why are you ..."

Bella had broken off and was quiet for moment.

"It's about me, isn't it?" Bella asked with dawning realization. "Alice saw something. She called you, right? Was it the Volturi?"

I quickly scribbled a note on the pad by the phone and showed it to Esme.

Esme glanced it, raised an eyebrow, and returned her attention to the phone.

"No, Bella, it's not the Volturi. Bella," Esme began cautiously, "are the walls in your dorm ... well, what color are they?"

"Huh? Well, um, off-white. Why?" Bella began, but then yelped in surprise. "Hey, ow!"

"If Alice is there, put her on the line right now," Rosalie growled.

Bella, in the background, said a bit petulantly, "Say 'please,' Rosalie."

Rosalie blew through her nose. "'Please,'" she added impatiently.

I walked to the phone, preparing to do battle with Rosalie, but then had to work very hard not to burst out laughing, even given the gravity of the situation, because Bella was muttering in the background, complaining faintly, and her words went like this.

"'Oh, Bella, may I talk on the phone for a moment, please?'" she asked herself sarcastically, then grumbled: "But no! Grab it right out of my hand like that, I won't be surprised if I've sprained my wrist, and it'll be all swollen tomorrow. How can I carry my luggage like that? I'm going to need cold Rosalie compress all night now, and it'd better be sweet and apologetic Rosalie cold compress, not mean and grumpy Rosalie or it'll be NST for her for a fortnight and that's a fact!"

As if Rosalie, fawning Rosalie, would let Bella touch anything other than her purse _(Yes, I know! Bella has a __purse__ now!_ They both were actually good for each other in some ways ...). In some ways, Rosalie is exactly like Edward in the ways she treats Bella.

I said in some ways, okay? Back off, please. Rosalie and Bella may have been quite the surprise match for all concerned, even each other, at first, but when they did end up as a couple, you did see how the strengths of one helped the other and _vice versa. _Sounds trite, and rarely works in practice. For example ... unfortunately: Bella and Edward ... their strengths only smothered each other. That is, if Edward would ever admit Bella had any strengths at all. He saw as a weak human girl, needing to be worshiped, yes, adored, yes, but protected and marginalized.

Rosalie saw Bella in many ways similar, but Rosalie did something that Edward didn't.

Rosalie treated Bella as a person. No, as an equal, as a lover, as a partner, a true partner in their relationship.

Carlisle brought me out of thoughts about Bella and Rosalie's perfect relationship, by asking about ... well, Bella and Rosalie's quirky relationship.

Carlisle asked in confusion, quietly, "N.S.T.?"

Both Jasper and Esme where shaking their heads frantically at Carlisle, but it was too late: I was already answering his question.

"N.S.T.," I said. "'No Sex Tonight.'"

One of the many wonderful things about having Bella in the family, besides her continuous moments of physical humor — _Bella fall down go boom-ouch, ha-ha, so funny! _— was that she gave me so much to look up and to learn. Emmett was right, it was a good thing Edward didn't kill her when he got his first whiff of her; never a dull moment with her around.

But then I sighed. _Emmett._ Yet another casualty of the Bella-effect. What was it now? Twenty-six vampires, which included the decimated newborn army Victoria (another casualty) raised to eliminate her.

You don't mess with me, nor Esme ... nor Bella, it appeared. The only entity that I knew that had eliminated more vampires was Jasper ... and the Volturi.

"Oh," said Carlisle, abashed at my explanation. But then the scientist in him got the better of his embarrassment, and he wondered aloud, "Actually, how can they engage in intercourse when neither is equipped with ..."

Esme's brow became stormy with fury, and her hand slashed the air in a vicious horizontal cut. Esme had learned that Carlisle, like many men, were immune to subtle hints.

I picked up the receiver and grinned wickedly. Teasing my father was a lot more fun than crossing swords with my sister.

"Look up 'tribadism' online, Carlisle, that should get your research started ..."

I giggled, anticipating the looks crossing Carlisle face when he hit wikipedia and saw the sample sketches, and then followed the link to tribbing-dot-org.

"Does that mean I have to work the computer?" Carlisle asked blankly.

I sighed ... that is, it would be delicious fun _if_ he ever made it to wikipedia. Maybe I'd help out his research efforts, that way I could see the expressions at his mortification or his scientific fascination first hand. I don't know which would be funnier.

Esme was glaring at me for my last comment.

So, maybe it'd be better if I let this one go.

But I mean, _come on!_ I was at least one-hundred years old, sure, but he had no excuses, even if he did have another quarter millennium on me. _Hey!_ He should have used that extra time to play catch up to me ... before he knew I existed.

I would have.

_Tee-hee!_ In fact, I did: I spend thirty years looking for the Cullens before I ever met them.

I sighed, and breathed cheerily into the receiver, "Hi, Rosalie!"

Might as well start the conversation off cheerfully ...

"What did you see, Alice?" Rosalie demanded curtly.

... 'start the conversation cheerfully' ... well, at least it started cheerfully from my end.

"Bella becomes your singer, and you drink her dry," I sang.

Silence. Three wide-eyed vampires stared at my delivery, and I couldn't see Rosalie through the telephone, but I didn't need to, for I had already memorized the definition of 'affronted haughtiness.'

That would be: 'see: Rosalie Lillian Haughty, I mean: Hale.'

"Made you blink," I added helpfully.

Rosalie spoke very slowly and clearly. "This is no laughing matter, Alice, and I don't appreciate your levity."

"Rosalie," I sighed, "how else could I get you to listen to me? Every time I say, 'Oh, no!' about something, you're right there saying I'm wrong about this or that. Frankly, my dear sister, I'm almost fainting with relief, because Bella's still alive, and you're been working on her vocabulary I'm pleased to see ... _fortnight? ..._ and ... you're angry enough to take me seriously this time."

"Alice, you're right about me being angry enough ..." Rosalie said.

It sounded calm, but I knew she was furious, and with me. Like Edward, she got really defensive when her lover was endangered, and, like Edward, she directed that anger at me for noticing the danger.

So much for not shooting the messenger. And I volunteer to do this why, again?

Oh, because I love Rosalie _so much!_

Actually, that's a true statement, sarcasm aside. It's true, too, for Edward, and for all my family, in fact.

Particularly my Jasper, but, as he's shown with the wolves and the newborns, he can take care of most any danger.

That leaves my Bella ...

Well, not _my_ Bella, but Bella, taking care of danger? _Ooh! A vampire! I wonder if it needs a hug?_

I keep my eye on, and out for, Bella.

Rosalie continued: "... but as for taking you seriously; well, I'll withhold judgement on that until after you tell me everything you saw."

And so I told her, confident now that she would hear me out this time ...

...

"So ..." Rosalie said slowly, "let me get this straight ..."

_Ah! Of course!_ You can't have a conversation with Rosalie with her just accepting what you say. No. She's got to pick everything apart.

"So," she continued, "you saw a vampire, indistinctly, taking a human, that you didn't see at all ... and you say your vision ended as the vampire moved toward the human ... right?"

"Right," I answered cautiously.

"Hm, well, yes, I could see how you would see it would be me, for after all, what vampire in the world would go for a human at night in their room ... oh, wait!" Rosalie added the 'afterthought' sarcastically, "That would, in fact, describe almost every encounter a vampire has with a human! Night? Check. Human? Check. Oh, dear me, alert the presses and wake up Bella at two in the morning, so her flight the next day is pure hell from lack of sleep! Make perfect sense to me! Great job, Alice, you've saved the day, yet again."

"It's not like that, Rosalie, ..." I began exasperated.

"Well, then," Rosalie replied, equally displeased, "tell me was it is like, because I have Bella staring at me with big saucer eyes of hers and a heartbeat elevated by worry. Do you know how much work it going to require to coax her back to sleep? _And_ the following dreams where I'll have to hold her as she ..." Rosalie paused thoughtfully, then a 'hmmm' as she considered the possibilities.

"You're welcome, Rosalie," I said and then added, rolling my eyes, "I'll make sure to call you at two a.m. from now on, okay? But would you please listen to me? A vision that strong? It's happening soon and it's happening to someone near to me, someone dear, and blue walls? ... as I saw in my vision? What color are the walls in Bella's room?"

"They're blue, Alice, and you know it," Rosalie accused petulantly.

Yes, I did. Bella needed a lot of help in the months it took her to mend from James' attack. Broken bones don't mend in hours on a human, after all. I spent a lot of time helping her in ways that, well, not _prudish,_ but ... well ... okay _prudish_ Edward absolutely refused to. His loss, for I felt in that time that I really got to know Bella in the most intimate of ways. I think our friendship really grew a bit past Bella's shyness about everything. It had to, because I had to help her into and out of the shower, holding her as she did the best she could, and then helping her where the breaks made it too painful to bend. Simply things like sitting down and standing up from the toilet were impossible for her, and I had to carry her up to and back down from her room. Edward could manage that last bit sometimes, but he really missed out on Bella's fierce embarrassment giving way to a shared intimacy of her thoughts, and, yes, her body, that I will remember and treasure forever.

Bella needed a friend's help then, and I was so glad I could be there for her to give it to her. Actually, I was the one who felt privileged and thankful during that time I helped her.

I returned my attention to the one who now was thankful of Bella's love and attentions, too ... in a very different way.

"So ...?" I said.

"So it doesn't mean _anything!"_ Rosalie responded fiercely. "There are a lot of bedrooms in the world with blue walls and there are hundreds of vampires preying on hundreds of humans, that means that there are more than a few people dying tonight. So sorry and so sad, but we're doing what we can about it. And it doesn't mean that Bella's the one being attacked nor that I'm her attacker, that would _never_ happen. _Ever._"

"But, Rosalie," I said sensibly, to her sensible reply, "this vision was ... well, it was tangible; it was _real_ for me. I _knew_ the human, and cared for her, and I felt the same about the vampire, although it's hard to tell you how, as I _was _them, but I felt it, Rosalie, this is going to happen."

"Just like Bella and Edward's wedding?" Rosalie asked softly. "Or were you putting up the decorations and fitting me for a _bride's maid_ dress for the exercise?"

I was quiet at that.

"Or like any of the many other visions you've had that predicted calamity or joy and ended up to be wrong or that just didn't happen. You're better than the weather forecast, but ..."

"Rosalie, I've been wrong, yes, but can we risk me being right in this case?" I demanded. "I _tasted_ the desire, Rosalie, and no matter how strong you are, you won't be able to resist it."

Rosalie hissed:_ "Yes, I shall!_ I've _never_ made a mistake, Alice, unlike others who've had visions about just that for herself, right, Alice?"

I looked down in shame.

"It ... It wasn't a mistake, Rosalie. I mean, _bang,_ there I was, this thing that I am now, and so, so _thirsty_, and the vision led me to ... to ..."

"To a nice young bag of blood named what again?" Rosalie asked relentlessly.

_Jimmy, _I thought to myself sadly. I make a pilgrimage to the tree I buried him by to say hello and to apologize, every year. That young, delighted, then mystified, then dead left fielder from a high school somewhere in Mississippi who went to retrieve a baseball that had shot over the fence.

The vision led me to that baseball. I held the ball out for him, ... for Jimmy.

'Looking for this?' I asked him sweetly.

I buried his body in Alabama, hundreds of miles away from where he went missing.

Nobody will ever find Jimmy. Except me, annually on my pilgrimage to his unmarked burial site.

"I ... Rosalie, I didn't know then ... I just knew that ..." I stuttered.

"You just knew that he looked just like you, and had a heart and a mind, and was entirely in your power, and what did you do? And now you have that taste cemented there in your mind, imprinted into your very being, and you think about it sometimes, tempted, because we all do, even Carlisle must, I'm sure, but the difference between Carlisle and myself and every other vampire in the world is we've never succumbed to that temptation. The murders I did were deliberate, and I didn't let one drop touch my lips. But you ..."

Rosalie paused significantly.

"So, yes, Alice, I can risk it, because what are you going to do? You're going to post watch over me, so now Bella will be exposed to _more_ vampires. Oh, _now_ she'll be safe, because it'll be you or Esme or Jasper watching over me watching over Bella, or ..."

She paused again, distaste thickening her voice.

"Or Edward, if he comes back, because he just has to check up on her; he can hop on a flight and be here in under a day. How do you know it's not one of you? It could be you, Alice, that's a vampire close to you. Very close. It could be Jasper ... need I remind you: _again_ ... you two are ... _close. _ And Edward? Bella is his singer! She gets a little cut while he's playing the stalker game he loves to play, and what happens after six months of him being away? The blood atomizes in the air, and Edward goes into a frenzy with no Carlisle to talk him down, because of Edward's clandestine machinations to avoid us all just so he can get a moment alone with Bella to talk her out of the error of her ways and to return to her handsome prince. You tell me he wouldn't try that!"

"Rosalie," I said with certainty, "no, he won't be trying that over Christmas break, nor anytime into the future that I can see, besides, he's kind of ... occupied now."

"I'm sure you'll tell me all about it when we get there," Rosalie sighed with exasperation.

_What?_ I like to share! So shoot me!

"... but he can't get unoccupied for a day to check on his true love and to see how the Royal Bitch is treating her so he can exact revenge?" Rosalie asked incredulously.

"Rosalie!" I rolled my eyes.

"Don't you, Alice," Rosalie growled, "don't you 'Rosalie' me! This is _Bella!_ I know how much she means to him, because I know how much she means to me. I _love_ her, and I'd do almost anything for her."

"Including letting her go if she wanted to leave you?" I asked carefully.

"I don't see that happening; I'm not going fall down on the job and let that happen, unlike some other people, but, to answer your question: yes. If she needed to leave me, if she really wanted to, I'd let her go."

"Just like Edward did," I concluded scoldingly.

"No, Alice, that's the difference ... Edward didn't love Bella, not really. He was a spoiled brat who was jealous of his toy, and, well, now his toy's been taken away because she decided, sensibly, to leave him. Well, boo-hoo! But I _don't_ treat Bella that way, because I _do_ love her. _That's_ the difference between love and jealousy. With love, you can let go, with jealousy, you hold tighter and tighter, and even when he left her, he was so jealous of that _dog_ and that Newton and now me, but he was really jealous of ... well, _her._ He _never_ let her think a thought on her own. And don't tell me you didn't see him push her around and treat her like ... well, like he treated her. Kidnappings sound familiar, oh, yellow Porsche owner?"

"We did that to keep her safe from ..."

"From her using her own judgment and doing what she felt was right!" Rosalie spat out. "I never liked it when it was happening, but I had to be diplomatic for happy Edward and happy Bella's sake then, but I don't have to be diplomatic now, so I'll say this now. Thanks for the scary visions and the offers of stalking help, but I'll be clear with you, Alice. If you're planning stakeouts, then don't! In fact, stay the Hell away. If you're planning to separate us, I will take on every single one of you to protect Bella from your plans to make _her_ happy the way _you_ see fit. Go ahead, ask her; I dare you. Ask her if she wants you to enroll her in your protection plan off your ambiguous vision. I'll do what she wants here. Will you?"

I didn't need my gift to know what Bella's preferences here would be. Bella was Bella. If she was in danger, she'd be the first to charge headlong into it. If she had a concern for her love, be it Edward or Rosalie, or anybody, _she_ tried to protect _them._

"But, Rosalie ..." I began.

"'But, Rosalie ...'" Rosalie repeated nasally — and I don't know why; I _do not_ have a nasal voice ... actually I do know why: Rosalie loved to get a rise out of me, but I loved it more getting a rise out of her ... because it was so easy to do — but then she scolded me: "That's not asking Bella, Alice. Good night!"

_Click._

Wow! She _hung up_ on me.

Now I knew she was spitting mad, ... well, I mean madder than usual, because hanging up on _me?_

She was going to be paying for that one for decades. _Decades, _I tell you.

I was actually pleased, looking forward to the look and raised eyebrow that I could give her from now on for that misstep that calm, cool, and collected (and always self-righteous and angry) Rosalie would never make.

_Ah! Young love!_ Well the family needed a breath of fresh air, and we were certainly getting it. Whatever Bella attached herself to, things got exciting.

But that didn't solve our problem. Our Bella problem. And the one who should have been most concerned about it and asked for our help was telling us to piss off.

So surprising, too, so like ... um, I meant so _unlike,_ Rosalie.

I shook my head, cradled the phone, and turned to my family.

"What do we do?" I asked them.

Wisdom: I don't have it, but my family does. Wisdom is knowing that when you don't know what to do, you ask for help from people who do.

Carlisle spoke slowly, measuring his words, "Rosalie is right, she is strong, and now that she's been warned, she'll be prudent. We've hurt Bella enough with our interference." He concluded solemnly: "We respect her wishes; we must do this."

I looked around and met concerned resolution. It was a hard thing Carlisle was saying, but he was right; our interference only made things worse for Bella, and as tempting as it was, we had to let Rosalie be strong in her own way. We disrespected Bella in this and it only put her into more and more danger, hurting her more, physically, yes, but the greater damage was the emotional scars she still carries.

"I agree," my Jasper said solemnly. "We have to respect Rosalie's wishes."

Jasper was quite for a moment, looking at the ground.

Then he looked up, his jaw clenched.

"Tell me, Carlisle, is it Rosalie's wish to have Bella dead in her arms? Is it yours to see the ones you love, your entire family, in fact, brought so low at a loss we allow if we do nothing and leave them be? We do that and Bella dies, and then what happens to Rosalie? What happens to all of us? It would be a mistake to do nothing now, when everything is needed of us. A fatal mistake."

He gave us a hard look.

"I know of struggle," Jasper said softly, "we all do, but I know how it is to lose to that struggle."

Jasper looked at me apologetically, then continued.

"And we know how to win against the struggle, and it's not to be strong and fight the fight alone, it's to have your friends, the ones you love there, helping you, supporting you. They may be offering that, but that's not what you ... what I ... what _Rosalie _needs us there for. I know many, many times I was tempted, but many times I didn't give into that temptation, and the only reason why I didn't wasn't because I'm strong; no, the only reason why I didn't give into temptation was because of the _shame_ I know I would feel for disappoint you, Carlisle, for disappointing ..."

Jasper glanced at me, then looked away quickly, not looking back.

"Jas ..." I gasped out, and reached toward him.

He looked at me. He looked so lost, so filled with self-loathing.

"Jasper," I whispered, "you will _never _disappoint me. Do you hear me? _Not ever."_

"But I have Alice. You've forgiven me ... but," Jasper broke off for a second. "But I know I've disappointed you. I have, and I know I would again if I failed you." He smiled sadly.

He looked back to Carlisle, but he took my tiny hand in his huge one, and I felt better knowing he felt comforted at my touch.

"That is what keeps me strong, Carlisle. Maybe you don't need that. No, I know you don't need that, but I know that I do, for I am a very weak man. And I think we all know that behind Rosalie's anger and fierceness is a weak woman. I think we _must_ honor her wishes, and I think we know the one person that makes all her wishes come true now, finally after a century of sadness and anger and pain, and I think we don't want her to lose that, and I think she doesn't to lose that, either."

He looked at Carlisle.

"I think that's she wants. I _know_ that's what I need. I think she does, too," he stated in conclusion.

I squeezed my man's hand, so filled with pride for him. His quiet, thoughtful words said exactly what I wanted to say, but so much better than my desperate and panicked squawking ever could.

And who said taking philosophy was a waste of time?

I looked at my Jasper, my solemn philosopher.

Carlisle did, too, measuring him and his words. His eyes slid over to Esme for a second, and she looked at him for a second, then nodded once. Her daughters' happiness was on the line, and she was thinking of them, so filled with compassion and concern.

Carlisle looked back to my Jasper, a Major in the Confederate army, a destroyer of over three thousand vampires in countless battles, a vampire now struggling to abstain from what he had been doing for more than a century ... and succeeding, by his own strength, yes, _and_ by the help of his family.

Carlisle spoke: "How shall we do this, Jasper?"

* * *

**Chapter End Notes:**

[1] This story does continue, ... _promise!_ ...but there's a nice, erhm, 'little' interlude of what 'happens' between Bella and Rosalie after Alice's phone call in my new story called "The Bells Are Ringing." Yes, if you are asking the question: somebody's 'bell' is indeed rung. If you know what I mean.


End file.
